FABIOLA 



OR, 



THE AGE OF THE CATACOMBS, 



BY 



CARDINAL WISEMAN. 



DRAMATIZED 

BY THE REV. LEWIS GRIFFA. 









OSWEGO : 

R. J, OLIPHANT, PRINTER. 
1869. 



/ 



.W7 f 2 



Entered according to Act of Congress, on the 29th 
day of April, 1872, 
BY REV. LEWIS GRIFFA, 

in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington 



*.**" 



$6 



IP IEL IB :F .A. OE - 



All the world knows the late Cardinal Nicholas Wiseman, 
Archbishop of "Westminster. His celebrity is due not only to 
his having so highly adorned with his talents and virtues the 
eminent position which he occupied, but in great part also to the 
excellency of his various theological and literary productions. 
Among these, the tale Fabiola, condensed in this volume under 
the form of a Drama, holds a place, apparently humble, but in 
reality very remarkable. The principal good feature of this 
work is the ability and exquisiteness of taste with which the 
Cardinal managed, and succeeded, to interest the readers, no matter 
to what class they may belong, about subjects, dry in themselves, 
and for many, accustomed to seek in novel reading mere diver- 
sion, almost repulsive. Then, there breathes all through a cer- 
tain suavity and unction, extremely engaging ; so that, whilst 
+ e reader's mind, as he peruses it, sucks, as it were, with pleas- 
ure a great deal of historical and archaeological information, he 
feels enraptured with the attractiveness of the narration, and is 
naturally brought, either to love the virtues displayed by some of 
its characters, or to detest the vices of the others. 

Soon after its publication, the fitness of this tale to be turned 
into a most pleasing and edifying drama, was felt by many. 
The learned Dr. Oackley was the first that dramatized it. But 
if, in a literary point of view, the drama was excellent, expe- 
rience showed that it little responded to the object of its author. 
It is written in poetry; it has too many unnecessary inci- 
dents ; there is a great multiplicity of scenes, too difficult to be 
executed ; thus Dr. Oackley' s drama can scarcely be acted as 
it is : or, if it is, it becomes tedious and unintelligible to the 
audience. 

The celebrated Thomas D'Arcy McGee did also dramatize 
Cardinal Wiseman's Fabiola; taking, however, for his main 
subject what in it is a mere episode, viz : the martyrdom of St. 



IV. 

Sebastian and of St. Pancratius. Hence, he entitled his drama 
Sebastian. In my opinion, D'Arcy McG-ee's Sebastian has about 
the same objectionable nature as that of Dr. Oackley's, although 
it is equally, if not more, valuable as to the literary merit. 
Moreover, in both there is this inconvenience, that the authors 
put too much of their own in them, which deprives their pro- 
ductions of the peculiar charm and irresistible beauty which the 
Cardinal's own words possess. 

My object in compiling this drama, was to avoid the inconven- 
iences just expressed, and thus to bring nearer home to the pub- 
lic, by rendering its execution more practicable, this rejl gem of 
literature — Cardinal Wiseman's Fabiola. Hence, I introduce 
scarcely any thing of my own in it ; the dialogues (all prose) 
being almost entirely taken word by word from the Cardinal's 
book. In this respect, I may say with truth, this drama is not mine 
own composition, but his. Then I discarded altogether all mere 
episodes, and adhered exclusively to the principal subject of the 
narrative — the gradual conversion to Christianity of Fabiola ; 
the incidents which brought it about, forming the whole plot, 
and the final development of the drama. Again, the scenes I 
introduced, are so very few, so plain, and disposed in such an 
easy way, that any stage manager will find no difficulty to ar- 
range them. 

I compiled this drama about ten years ago. Since, it was 
put in action at six different places, always with great success. 
It has proved particularly well adapted to Exhibitions of Educa- 
tional Establishments. Having found that it is very difficult to 
carry it out well with the help of a simple manuscript, I finally 
determined to get it printed. 

May God direct it to the good object for which I have intended 
it. 

Lewis Griffa. - 

Oswego, September, 18G9. 



DRAMATIS PERSONCE. 



FABIOLA— A Heathen Roman lady. 

AGNES -Fabiola's cousin, a Christian and martyr. 

SYRA— Fabiola's slave, a Christian. 

AFRA— A Negress, Fabiola's slave, a Heathen. 

GRAJA— Another slave. 

CECILIA— A blind girl, Christian and martyr. 

FABIUS-Fabiola's father. 

TERTULLUS-Prefect of Rome. 

CORVINUS-his son, Fabiola's suitor. 

FULVIUS— A spy, Agnes' suitor. 

SEBASTIAN— Captain of the Imperial guards, a 

Christian and martyr. 
DYONYSIUS-A Priest and Physician. 
A Deacon. 
Soldiers. 

Crowd of Christians. 
Chorus of Virgins. 



FABIOLA. 



ACT I. 

Christians and Heathens Contrasted. 



s c E x E . 

Fabiola' s Reception Room. 

[Fabiola is reclining on a coach, holding in her hand a mirror. Afra 
is bu*y arranging her hair, and Graja her dress. Syra sits at a 
Utile distance embroidering. Fabiola wears a stiletto in the folds of 
her dress. .] 

Afra. How delighted I should be, most noble mis- 
tress, if I could only be allowed to be here present this 
evening, t ) observe the brilliant effect of this new cos- 
metic on your hair ! It has cost me many trials before 
I could get it perfect. 

Graja. As for me, I should not presume to aspire to 
so high an honor. I should be satisfied to look from out- 
side the door, and see the magnificent effect of this won- 
derful tunic. Nothing can equal its beauty. 

Fabiola. And you, Syra, what would you desire? 
And what have you to praise of your own doing ? 

Syra. Nothing to desire, noble lady, but that you 
may be ever happy ; and nothing to praise of my own 
doing, for I am not conscious of having done more than 
my duty. 

Fabiola. Methinks, slave, that you are not over 
given to praise. One seldom hears a soft word from 
your mouth. 

Syra. And what worth would it be from a poor ser- 
vant to a noble dame, accustomed to hear it all day long 



8 

frem eloquent and polished lips ? But do you believe it 
when you hear it from them ? Do you not rather 
despise it, because not always sincere ? 

Fabiola. (Angrily. ) Have you yet to learn, then, 
that you are mine, and that you must serve me as I 
please ? I have as good a right to the service of your 
tongue as of your arms. A new idea, indeed, that a slave 
has to have any will but that of her mistress, when her 
very life belongs to her ! 

Syra. True, my lady, my life belongs to you ; and 
so does all else that ends with life — time, health, vigor, 
body and breath. All this you have bought with your 
gold, and it has become your property. But I still hold 
as my own what no Emperor's wealth can purchase, no 
chains of slavery fetter, no limits of life contain. 

Fabiola. And what is that ? (Sneeringly.) 

Syra. A soul ! 

Fabiola. A soul!? (Mockingly.) xind what do 
you mean by the word ? 

Syra. I mean that inward living consciousness within 
me, which makes me feel to have an existence among 
better things than surround me, which shrinks from de- 
struction, which abhors from flattery and detests a lie. 

Fabiola. Who has taught you to prate in this manner ? 
Do you really fancy that when, after death, your corpse 
will be thrown on the heap of slaves, you will survive, 
and have still a life of joy and freedom? 

Syra. I do, noble lady; and more yet, I believe that 
there is a Power that will cause the four winds of heaven 
to give back every grain of my dust ; and I shall be 
built up again in this my very body ; not, indeed, as it is 
now, but free and joyful and glorious, loving for ever and 
beloved. '' This certain hope is laid up in my bosom." 

Fabiola. In what school did you learn all this nonsense ? 

Syra. In a school in which there is no distinction be- 
tween nation and nation, between freeman and slave. 

Fabiola. What? without waiting for that future 
ideal existence after death, already, even now, you pre- 
sume to claim equality with me ? Come, tell me at once 
if you do so or not. 



9 

Syra. Most noble mistress, far superior are you in 
place, power, learning, genius, and in all that embelishes 
life, to one so lowly and insignificant as I. But if I must 
answer simple truth to your question .... 

Fabiola. Well, go on. (Impatiently.) 

Syra. Well, I put it to your own judgment, whether 
a poor slave, who holds an unquenchable consciousness of 
possessing within her a living intelligence, whose measure 
of existence is immortality, whose only true place of 
dwelling is above the skies, whose only rightful pro- 
totype is the Deity, can hold herself inferior in moral 
dignity or lower in sphere of thought than one who, 
however gifted, owns that she claims no higher dignity, 
no sublimer end than that which awaits, for instance, 
yonder irrational songster, that beats, without hope of 
liberty, against the gilded bars of its cage. 

Fabiola. Impertinent ! (She makes a blind thrust 
at Syra with the stiletto. Syra, putting forward her 
arms to save her person, receives therein the point.) 
Go, go now; you need not return here again this eve- 
ning. 

[Exit Sura and enter Agnes, who, meeting Syra at the door* 
kisses her wounds, which stains her dress with biood.~] 

Agnes. (To Syra.) I have seen ail. Meet me again 
when I go out. (To Fabiola.) G-ood evening, cousin. 

Fabiola,. Welcome, dear Agnes ; it is really kind of 
you to come at my sudden request. The fact is, that my 
father has this evening some guests at supper, and he 
wishes to introduce some of them to you and me. 

Agnes. My dear Fabiola, you know I am always 
happy to visit you ; therefore don't make any apologies 
about that. 

Fabiola. And so you have come to me, as usual, in 
your snow-white dress, without jewels or ornament, . . . 
but — good heavens ! What is this? Are you hurt? It 
looks like blood ! Let me change your dress. 

Agnes. Not for the world, Fabiola ; it is a true jewel, 
which I am exceedingly delighted to wear. It is blood, 
and blood of a slave ; but nobler, in my eyes, than flows 
in your veins or mine. 



10 

Fabiola. Do you then wish to exhibit a proof to all 
the world of my hastiness of temper in over-chastening a 
forward slave ? 

Agnes. No, dear cousin : I only wish to preserve for 
myself a lesson of fortitude and of elevation of mind, 
such as few philosophers can teach us. 

Fabiola. What a strange idea! Indeed, Agnes, I 
have often thought that you make too much of that class 
of people. After all, what are they ? 

Agnes. Human beings as much as ourselves; en- 
dowed with the same reason, the same feelings, the same 
organization. Then, they form part of the same family ; 
and if God, from whom cometh our life, is thereby our 
father, he is theirs as much ; consequently they are our 
brethren. 

Fabiola. A slave my brother or sister ? The gods 
forbid it ! 

Agnes. Come, come, do not let us get into a discus- 
sion. You are too candid and honorable not to feel that 
to-day you have been outdone by a slave in mind, in 
reasoning, in truthfulness and in fortitude. Do not an- 
swer me. I see it in that tear. Will you grant me, 
dear cousin, a request ? 

Fabiola. Any in my power. 

Agnes. Allow me to purchase Syra. You will not 
like to see her about you any more, I guess. 

Fabiola. You are mistaken, Agnes. I will master 
pride for once, and own that I shall now esteem her, 
perhaps admire her. It is a new feeling in me towards 
one of her station. 

Agnes. But, perhaps, Fabiola, I could make her some- 
what happier than she is. 

Fabiola. No doubt, Agnes; you have the power of 
making every body happy about you. I never saw such 
a household as yours. Come, tell me your secret. I 
suspect, you little magician, possess some secret charm, 
by which you make every one love you. If you were a 
Christian, and were exposed in the ampitheatre, I am 
sure the very leopards would crouch and nestle at your 
feet — but why do you look so serious, child ? You 
know I am only joking. 



11 

Agnes. Well, well, Fabiola; even such strange things 
may indeed come to pass. At any rate, if aught so 
dreadful had to happen, Syra would just be the sort of 
person one would like to see near one : so you really 
must let me have her. 

Fabiola. — For heaven's sake, Agnes, do not take my 
words so seriously; they were spoken in jest. But as 
for Syra's devotedness you are right. When last summer 
I was dangerously ill of contagious fever, it required the 
lash to make the other slaves approach me ; while that 
poor thing would hardly leave me day and night. 

Agnes. And did you not love her for this? 

Fabiola. Love her ! love a slave, child ! Of course 
I always take care to reward her ; though I cannot make 
out what she does with what I give her. The others 
tell me she has nothing put by ; and she certainly 
spends nothing on herself. Nay, I have heard she 
foolishly shares her daily allowance of food with a 
blind beggar girl. 

Agnes. Dearest Fabiola, she must be mine ! You 
promised me my request. Name your price, and let 
me take her home this evening. 

Fabiola. Well, be it so, you most irresistible of 
petitioners. Send to-morrow some one to see my father's 
steward, and all will be right. I will now go down stairs 
and give some orders to my slaves. You please to 
stay here a little while. [Exit Fabiola. 

Agnes. {Alone.) Now I must see Syra, and tell 
her the good news. Oh, she must decidedly be mine ! 
Syra ! [calling,) are you engaged ? [Enter Syra, lead- 
ing by the hand Cecilia.) 

Syra. I was only putting some food in this my poor 
friend's basket. 

Agnes. Oh, Cecilia, is it you ? Ah, I know now 
your secret at last. This is the friend whose food you 
have always said was so sweet to you. And now, I am 
very glad to have you present, to hear the good news I 
bring to Syra. Fabiola has allowed me to become your 
mistress, Syra, and to take you home with me. To-mor- 
row you shall be free, and a dear sister to me. 



12 

Cecilia. Oh, how good ! How happy you will now 
be, dear Syra ! 

Syra. O good and gentle lady, you have been kind 
indeed to think so much about one like me. But pardon 
me if I entreat you to remain as I am. 

Agnes. But why? 

Syra: Because I think I can serve God better in this 
my present condition. I own this is not the one in 
which I was born ; I have been brought to it by others. 
But so much the more clear is it to me that God has 
willed me to serve him in this condition. How can I 
wish to leave it ? 

Agnes. Well then, we can easily manage it. I will 
not free you ; you shall be my bondswoman. That will 
be just the same. 

Syra. No, no ; that will never do. Our great Apos- 
tle's instructions to us are: " Servants, be subject to 
your masters, not only to the good and gentle, but also to 
the froward." I am far from saying that my mistress is 
one of these; but I know that you, noble Agnes, would 
be too good for me. Where would it be my cross if I 
lived with you V 

Agnes. Well, Syra, if no motive addressed to your own 
interest can move you, I'll use a more selfish plea. I 
want to have you with me, that I may improve by your 
advice and example. 

Syra. Selfish, lady, you can never be; therefore I 
will appeal to yourself from your request. You know 
Fabiola, and you love her. What a noble soul ! What a 
splendid intellect ! What great qualities and accomplish- 
ments, if they only reflected the light of truth ! And 
how jealously does she guard in herself that pearl of vir- 
tues, which only we know how to prize ! Oh, then, what 
a truly great Christian she would make ! 

Agnes. And do you hope for it ? 

Syra. It is my prayer day and night. It is, and will 
always be the occupation of my life. I will try to win 
her by patience, by assiduity, even by such unusual dis- 
cussions as we have held to-day. And when all is ex- 
hausted I have one resource more. 



13 

Agnes and Cecilia. And what is that ? 

Syra. To give my life for her conversion. I have 
placed my life in God's hand for her soul.. Oh, dearest 
and best of ladies, do not come in thus between me and 
my prize ! 

Agnes. You have conquered, sister Syra. Oh never 
call me lady again ! Remain at your post; such virtue 
must triumph. 

Cecilia. And I say that she has said one very wicked 
thing, and told a great story just a wjaile ago. 

Syra. What is that, my pet ? / 

Cecilia. Why, you said that I was wiser and better 
than you. How could you tell me such a thing, while 
you give up liberty, happiness, the free exercise of reli- 
gion and life itself, for the salvation of one who is your 
tyrant ? 

Agnes. Well, well, I'll settle this pretty quarrel. 
The Lord said : "He is greater among you, that is 
meaner in his own estimation." Let us then vie with 
each other in humility. Now you may go, dear sisters. 

Syra and Cecilia. The Lord be with you, Agnes. 

[Exeunt. 

Agnes. And with your spirit. 

[Enter Fabiola. 

Fabiola. My father and our visitors will come in 
presently, Agnes. 

Agnes. But you have not put on all your usual 
jewels ! 

Fabiola. Never mind them : I feel no taste for them 
to-day. 

Fabius. (Outside, boisterously.) Come in, come in, 
gentlemen. 

[Enter Fabius, then Ficlvius and Corvinus, and, Iast,Tertidlus and 
Sebastian, ,] 

Fabius. (Pompously.) My dear young ladies, I have 
the pleasure to introduce to you Master Corvinus, the 
worthy son of our illustrious Prefect Tertullus, who has 
honored us with his presence this evening, and Master 
Fulvius, who came lately from the East highly recom- 
mended to our Emperor for having discovered there a 



14 

conspiracy against his Divine Majesty. Two splendid 
matches (laughs) for the two noblest ladies in Rome 1 
You know already the valiant Captain of the Emperor's 
Guards, Sebastian. 

[He points out the several gentlemen according as he mentions them. 
The ladies bow civilly but coolly to Corvinus, Fulvius and Ter- 
nellies, and more courteously to Sebastian.'] 

Fabiola. I consider myself highly honored by this 
introduction to gentlemen so much esteemed by my re- 
vered father. Gentlemen, please be seated. 

[Sebastian goes towards Agnes, and sits near her, and Fabiola in- 
tentionally takes a chair, and goes to sit near him. Corvinus and 
Fulvius show disappointment.] 

Fabius. Our valorous Prefect has brought us, la- 
dies, capital news ; the Thermoe of Dioclesian will be fin- 
ished in three years Excellent waters for bathing there ! 

[Rubs his hands. 

Fabiola. — I am always delighted with any thing that 
affords pleasure to my beloved father. 

Tertullus. Several thousands of Christians will be set 
immediately to that work ; and they will soon bring it to 
an end. [Sebastian and Agnes look at each other, 
smiling.) 

Fulvius. They were all implicated in the late con- 
spiracy discovered by me. 

Fabiola. But why will Christians do this work better 
than other criminals ? 

Tertullus. Ordinary convicts naturally do not love 
their work, and they require the lash at every step to 
compel them to perform it; then, they are generally rude, 
sottish and querulous. But the Christians., I do not 
know how, seem to work with joy, and they are ordina- 
rily very tame : moreover, among them there are always 
many endowed with much skill and talent. Of course, 
for all that, the overseers apply the lash and the stick 
very freely to them. Such is the will of our divine Em- 
peror, that their lot be made as hard as possible. 

Fabiola. I cannot say that I admire this sort of 
justice. 



15 

Fulvius. Perhaps, madam, you have never heard of 
the horrible crimes of which the Christians are guilty. 

Fabiola. Indeed I have not ; nor have I ever read 
their history either. 

Tertullus. My son Corvinus, just come home from the 
best Academy of Athens, can tell you that history, 
Madam. 

Fabius. Oh yes, tell U3 ; it must be very interesting. 

[Rubbing his hands. 

Corvinus. {He rises and bows to ihe company in a 
pompous but stupid way.) Ladies and gentlemen, 
You must know that the Christians are a foreign sect, 
the founder of which flourished many years ago in 
Ghaldea. His doctrines were brought to Eome at the 
time of Vespasian by two brothers named Peter and 
Paul. Some maintain that these were the same twin 
brothers whom the Jews call Moses and Aaron, the sec- 
ond of whom sold his birthright to his brother for a kid, 
the skin of which he wanted to make gloves of. But the 
identity I do not admit, as it is recorded in the mystical 
books of the Jews, that the second of these brothers, see- 
ing the other's victims give better omens of bird than his 
own, slew him, as Romulus did Remus, but with the 
jaw-bone of an ass; for which he was hung by King 
Mardocheus of Macedon, at the suit of their sister Judith. 
However, Peter and Paul coming, as I said, to Rome, the 
former was discovered to be a fugitive slave of Pontius 
Pilate, and was crucified by his master's orders. Their 
followers, of whom they had many, made the cross their 
symbol, and adore it ; and they think it the greatest hon- 
or to suffer stripes and even death, as the best means of 
being like their teachers, and, as they fancy, of going 
somewhere in the clouds. 

Sebastian. {Ironically.) A very lucid explanation 
indeed of Christianity ! {To Agnes.) Shall I answer the 
goose ? 

[Agnes, putting her finger to her mouth, implores him to be silent.'] 
Fulvius. Rut the worse about the Christians is, that 
they are the greatest enemies of the Roman empire. 

[Sebastian puts his hand on his sword ; but Agnes again wins him 
to keep quiet.] 



16 

Corvinus. Ah ! the scoundrels ! They would fain 
destroy us all, if they could. [Fabius shudders.) Did 
they not burn Rome under Nero ? And in what do you 
think their principal act of worship consists ? In slaying 
a child and then eating its flesh and drinking its blood ! 

Fabiola and Fabius. Horrible ! 

[Sebastian gives new signs of impatience.^ 

Fulvius. Captain Sebastian [sarcastically) seems to 
think differently about these Christians. 

Sebastian. Indeed, I think that if they really are such 
a foolish and wicked race as you have described them to 
be, they deserve to be exterminated. But, even so, I 
would give them at least one chance. 

Fulvius. And what is that ? 

Sebastian. That no one be allowed to join in de- 
stroying them who could not prove himself freer from 
crime than they. I would have no one raise his hand 
against them, who cannot show that he has never been an 
extortioner, a deceiver, a drunkard, a profligate or a 
thief; for, of being any of these, no one charges the poor 
Christians. 

Fulvius. [Piqued.) The Emperor will soon give 
them a better chance to clear themselves, there on the 
arena of the Ampithcatre. A brave soldier like you will 
be delighted to see their struggles with the wild beasts of 
the forest. 

Sebastian. Fulvius, I should ill deserve the title you 
give me, could I contemplate with pleasure and in cold 
blood the struggle between a brute beast and a helpless 
child or woman ; for, such are the spectacles of the Am- 
pitheatfe. I will draw my sword willingly against any 
enemy of the princes or of the empire ; but I would as 
readily draw it against the lion or the leopard that should 
rush, even by imperial order, against the innocent and 
the defenceless. 

Fabiola. The Captain is right, I think. 

Agnes. [To Fabiola.) Cousin, you will never hear 
Sebastian speak, except to express generous and high- 
minded sentiments. But I feel fatigued ; I would like to 
retire. 



17 

Fabiola. I too. (To Fabius.) Dear father, I do 
not feel quite well. I should like to retire earlier this 
evening 

Fabius. Very well, very well. (To the oUiers.) 
Come friends, let us to the baths. 

Sebastian. Noble Fabius, excuse me this time; the 
duties of my office call me elsewhere. 

[Exit Fabiola, bowing coolly to the other gentlemen, bat shaking 
hands warmly ivith Sebastian, and embracing Agnes affectionately. 
Exeunt Fabius, Tertullus, Corvinus and Fabius.] 

Sebastian. (To Agnes.) How shocking, Agnes, to 
find even learned men believing at once every calumny, 
every fable, every fiction about us Christians, without 
ever thinking of examining whether they are true ; just 
because they have made up their minds that we must be 
all that is low, wicked and detestable ! 

Agnes. True, Sebastian ; but we must remember 
that our blessed Redeemer has not been better treated by 
men than we are. 

Sebastian. Thank you, Agnes, for your just remark. 
God be with you. 

Agnes. And with your spirit. (Exeunt. Curtain 
falls.) 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. . . THE FORUM. 

[A board is see?i hanging at the Fretorium, ivith traces of a wri- 
ting, now torn, which contained the imperial decree of 'persecution 
against the Christians. 

Enter Fulvius, dragging forcibly by the arm Torquaius, icho has 
no hat, and bears signs of recent revelry and drunkenness.'] 

Torquatus. Now, what do you want with me ? Let 
me go. Are you not satisfied with having got all my 
money ? 

Fulvius. Ah yes, I have got it, and in a lawful game. 
Here it is! (Takes purse from his pocket and makes 
the coin jingle to Torquatus'* ear.) And, you see, you 
are now a beggar, a ruined gamester. But it is to tell 



18 

you something else that I have taken you here apart. 
Do you see there (pointing hack to the board) that im- 
perial edict of persecution against the Christians, which 
will be a law for the whole empire from to-morrow's 
daylight ? 

Torquatus. I see no decree there. But what with 
that ? 

Fulvius. Are you not a Christian ? 

Torquatus. No, no ! (in despair.) 

Fulvius. (Laughing sarcastically.) You may as 
well say so, after your conduct to-night at the gambling 
house. But you are a Christian nevertheless ; in your 
drunkenness you have told us all ; only you are now de- 
graded ; you have disgraced your religion, and betrayed 
it too. 

Torquatus. (With anguish.) Ah! they will for- 
give me still. God. . . 

Fulvius. Silence ! Utter not that name, hypocrite. 

Torquatus. But why do you torment me thus ? If 
all that you say is true, what is it to you ? 

Fulvius. A great deal, sir. Do you not see that you 
have betrayed yourself into my power completely ? 
I am master of your money, of your character, of your 
life. I have only to let your fellow Christians know 
what you have done, what you have said, what you have 
been to-night in our company, and you dare no more 
face them. I have only to let that (v bully," that " big 
brute," as you called Corvinus at the gambling table — 
but who is the son of the Prefect of Home — loose upon 
you (and no one else can now restrain him after such 
provocation) and to-morrow you will be standing before 
his father's tribunal to die for that religion you have dis- 
graced, and just now denied to me. Are you ready now 
to reel and stagger as a drunken gambler, to represent 
your Christianity before the judgment seat in this fo- 
rum?. . . . (Silence.) Well, have you made your choice, 
either to go at once to the Christians with to-night on 
your head, or to-morrow to the Court? Which do you 
choose ? 

Torquatus. (Imploringly.) Oh neither ! 



19 

Fulvius. Come then, what will you do ? 

Torquatus. What you like, only neither of those two 
things. 

Fulvius. [Soothingly.) Now, Torquatus, listen to 
me; do as I tell you, and all is mended. You shall have 
house, and food, and apparel, and money too, if you will 
only do my bidding. 

Torquatus. And what is that? 

Fulvius. You must answer truth to my questions ; 
then, put on your Christian face, and do what I tell 
you. 

Torquatus. {In great anguish.) Oh ! a traitor at 
last! 

Fulvius. Call it what you wish : that or death !. . . . 
I hear some one coming. . . .quick : which is to be? 

Torquatus. {Cowardly.) Not death! any thing 
else? 

Fulvius. When are the Christians to have one of their 
solemn meetings ? 

Torquatus. The day after to-morrow, at day-break. 

Fulvius. Where? {Torquatus hesitates.) Where? 
I say. 

Torquatus. In a subterranean cemetery, near Via 
Appia. 

Fulvius. Now, the day after to-morrow {emphatically) 
'at day-break, thou shalt lead me and a few other gentle- 
men thither. Agreed ? 

Torquatus. Agreed. 

Fulvius. Here is some of your money [give it) : You 
shall have more if all is right; but remember to put on 
your Christian face well. 

[Exit Torquatus. 

Fulvius. {Alone.) What a good luck I had in meet- 
ing this fellow at the gambling house ! . . Now, [musing) . . 
Ah ! it is the very High Priest of these Christians I shall 
pounce upon there ; or, at any rate, I shall surely catch 
some fat one among them ; thus, half my fortune will be 
made. As to Agnes, if she is really a Christian, as the 
report is, I will find her there : and, either she consents 
to be mine, or I will accuse, her and get her confiscated 



20 

property. And now {musing again,) let me see. .yes. . 
I hear she is at her villa. I will go this very morning 
there, and try my chance with her. Who knows but I 
may win her? Haides, speed me ! (Exit.) 

[Enter Corvinus, accompanied by some soldiers.'] 

Corvinus. [Finding the sentinel asleep.] Oh ! oh ! 
sleeping, sentinel V [Awakes him-] But. .[perceiving 
the edict torn away] what? the edict torn away? Ohe 1 
sirrah ! [Shaking him by the arm.] How has that doc- 
ument disappeared ? 

Soldier. Softly, softly, sir; is it not there where you 
left it in my charge? 

Corvinus. Where, you fool ? Look ! 

Soldier. [Looking stupidly to the beard.] Well, is 
not that the board you huog up last night ? 

Corvinus. Yes, you blockhead ; but there was wri- 
ting on it, which is gone. That is what you had to 
guard. 

Soldier. Why, look you, Captain, as to writing, you 
see, I know nothing, having never been a scholar. 

Corvinus. Come, come ; this is no joking matter. 
Tell me at once who came here last night ? 

Soldier. Why, two of them came. 

Corvinus. Two of what ? 

Soldier. Two wizards, or goblins, or worse. 

Corvinus. None of that nonsense for me. Tell me 
what sort of people were they, and what did they ? 

Soldier. One of them was but a stripling, a boy, tall 
and thin, and went around, and, I suppose, took away 
what you miss, while I was busy with the other. 

Corvinus. And what of him ? What was he like ? 

Soldier. Why, if he was not the head-goblin itself, he 
wasn't far from it. I never felt such strength. 

Corvinus. What did he do to show it? 

Soldier. He came up first, and began to chat quite 
friendly, when I remembered that I had to run through 
any one that came near me. . 

Corvinus. Exactly : but why did you not do it ? 

Soldier. He wouldn't let me. I told him to be off, or 
I should spear him, and I drew back and stretched my 



21 

javelin ; when, in the quietest manner, I don't know 
how, he twisted it out of my hand, broke it over his 
knee, and dashed the pieces fifty yards off. 

Corvinus. Then why did you not rush on him with 
your sword?. .But, I see, you have no sword ! Where 
is it? 

Soldier. There ; don't you see it shining on the tiles 
of the pretorium ? 

Corvinus. How did it get there ? 

Soldier. He, or it, whatever it was, whisked it out of 
my hand, and up. .where you see it, as if it had been a 
play ball. 

Corvinus, And then ? 

Soldier. And then, he and the boy, who came back 
just at the moment, walked off in the dark. 

Corvinus. [To himself.'] Oh ! surely, they were 
two Christians ! [To the soldier.'] But why did you 
not give the alarm, and rouse the other guards to pursuit ? 

Soldier. First, Master Kor . . Korn . . winer, because 
in my country we never pursue hobgoblins; secondly, 
what was the use ? I saw that the board you gave into 
my care, was there safe and sound . . 

Corvinus. Stupid barbarian ! This business will go 
hard with you. It is a capital offence. You will have 
to answer to the Emperor for it. 

Soldier. [With a hole of sly stolidity] Look you 
now, sir ; as to that, we are pretty well in the same boat. 
You must contrive some way of saving me, if you want to 
save yourself. ' 

Corvinus. Oh rage ! Well, [softening] I must make 
it out that a strong body of those savage Christians at- 
tacked you and killed you at your post. So, you go ; 
shut yourselves up in the quarters for a few days. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE II. AGNES' VILLA. GARDEN. 

[Agnes carries a wreath of flowers, and a basket half fall of 
flowers.] 

[Enter Agnes and St/ra.] 

Agnes. Welcome, Syra, to my Villa. Is Fabiola 
coming ? 



22 

Syra. She is. She was to leave home soon after 
myself. 

Agnes. Please, then, to go and prepare her room ; and 
when she comes, call me. I will finish my little collec- 
tion of flowers, to make wreaths for our consecration of 
to-morrow. 

[Exit Syra. Enter Fulvius from the opposite side. Agnes starts 
when she perceives Ids presence.'] 

Fulvius. Excuse my intrusion, fair lady. I came for 
a ride out of the Nomentan gate, and, when I found my- 
self near your villa, I could not but dismount and call, 
in order to renew to you the expression of my sincere 
regard. (A short silence.) What a bright and fair 
day ! Isn't it, my lady ? 

Agnes. Fair, indeed, and bright it is to me; and the 
sun will give me, I hope, one more fair still. 

Fulvius. The day, I suppose you mean, of your 
espousals with one who may have won your heart. 

Agnes. Oh yes ! 

Agnes. And was that wreath woven in anticipation 
of such a happy hour ? 

Agnes. Oh ! it is the sign my beloved will place upon 
my countenance that I may recognize no lover but himself. 

Fulvius. And who is this happy being? I was not 
without hopes, nor will I renounce them yet, that I have 
a place in your thoughts, perhaps in your affections. 

Agnes. He, whose beauty sun and moon in their lofty 
firmament gaze on and admire, to him, to him alone is 
pledged my love. • 

Fulvius. But, Madam, you are trifling with one who 
sincerely admires and loves you. I sincerely and earn- 
estly solicit your hand. I may seem abrupt and infor- 
mal ; but I am sincere. \_He drops on his knees before 
her. 

Agnes. Begone, begone from me, food of corruption; 
already a lover has secured by heart, whose love is chaste, 
whose caress is pure, whose brides never put off their 
original wreaths. 

Fulvius. (Rising up with spite and fury ) Is it not 
enough to be rejected, but must insult be heaped on me 



23 

too ? And must I be told to my face that another has 

been before me ? 

g|pN [Enter Fcibiola, suddenly.] 

t%Fabiola. Who are you that dare thus to intrude upon 

the privacy of my kinswoman's rural retreat ? 

Fulvius. And who are you who take upon yourself to 
be imperious mistress in another's house ? 

Fabiola. One who feels herself bound in honor and 
duty to shield her cousin from your wicked designs. [She 
takes Agnes by the hand and leads her away.) Come, 
Agnes, and let him there a prey to his disappointment. 
^Fulvius. {Gnashing his teeth and mattering audi* 
bly.) Haughty Roman dame ! Thou shalt bitterly rue 
this day and hour. 



ACT III. 

TKCE PERSECUTION. 
SCENE, THE CATACOMBS. 
{Enter procession of Christians, Virgins already consecrated, Clergy, 
Dyonysius and his Deacon, and at last Agnes and Syra, who 
carry each a wreath of flowers and a white veil. The chant of 
Jesu Corona Virginum is heard before the procession comes out, 
and continues till all have taken their respective places. Agnes and 
Syra place themselves before the platform on ivhich Dyonysius 
stands. ,] 

Dyonysius. Brethren, some young women desire to 
join the Chorus of our holy virgins. 

The Crowd. Thanks be to God ! 

Dyonysius. O how high a calling is theirs ! To lead 
on earth the life of angels ! To tread the same chaste 
path to Heaven which the incarnate Son of God chose 
for Himself and for His own Mother ! To be received 
into the pure ranks of the host "that follows the Lamb 
whithersoever he goeth." But, that you all, and espe- 
cially these good virgins, may better appreciate their 
holy state of life, my Deacon will read you the instruc- 
tions which the great Apostle St. Paul left to us on this 
subject in the 7th chapter of his Epistle to the Corin- 
thians. 



24 

Deacon. (Reiding.) "Concerning virgins, I have no 
commandment of the Lord; but I give counsel as having 
obtained mercy of the Lord to be faithful. I think, 
therefore, that it is good so to be. I would have you to 
be without solicitude. He that is with a wife is solicitous 
for the things of the world, and he is divided ; and she 
that is married, thinketh on the things of the world. 
But the unmarried and the virgin thinketh of the things 
of the Lord. 

And this I speak for your profit ; not to cast a snare 
upon you ; but that you may have power to attend upon 
the Lord without impediment. 

Therefore he that giveth his virgin in marriage doeth 
well; and he that giveth her not doeth better, according 
to my counsel : and I think that I have the spirit of God." 
Dyonysius. Now, my daughters, (addressing Agnes 
and Syra) declare what you ask from the Church of God. 
Agnes and Syra. [Kneeling before the Priest ] Fath- 
er, we ask the sacred veil; because we intend, with the 
help of God, to choose for our only and eternal spouse 
our Savior, his Divine Son, and embrace the state of 
virginity. 

Dyonysius. Thanks be to God ! 
The Whole Crowd.— Thanks be to God ! 
Dyonysius. And may the grace of God assist you to 
fulfil your engagement faithfully to the end of your lives ! 
[Putting the veil on them'] And let this veil be an em- 
blem of that modesty which you must observe, in order 
that you may preserve unsullied the purity of your life. 
[Putting the wreath of flowers on their heads.] And 
may your life, like these pure and unspotted flowers, be, 
as the Apostle Paul recommends, "good odour of Christ." 
Agnes and Syra. Amen. [Withdrawing. When 
Cecilia arrives in a hurry. 

Cecilia, [Seizing each of them by the hand, and 
throwing herself down at the feet of the priest.] Holy 
Father, I also wish to receive the veil of consecration, 
under the care of these two holy virgins. [Agnes and 
Syra look surprised and overwhelmed w'thjoy and ten- 
derness] 



25 

Dyonysius. Thanks be to God! [Etc., etc. as before ; 
when Tie is about putting on the wreath^ seeing that she 
has none.] Have you not brought the wreath of flowers ? 

Cecilia. I had not at hand any flowers ; but my di- 
vine Bridegroom had not any either. I am but a poor 
girl; and I hope my Lord will not be offended if I ask 
Him to crown me, as He was pleased to be crowned him- 
self, with a crown of thorns. [She shows from under 
her handkerchief the crown of thorns ; Agnes and Syra. 
try to take from her the crown, and to put on her head 
their own wreath, but the priest checks them'] 

Dyonysius. Let it be so. [Putting the crow?i upon 
her head] And may this crown be a sign that thou 
wilt try to resemble in purity and, if necessary, in suffer- 
ing, thy Divine Spouse ! 

The Crowd. Amen. 

Sebastian. [Bushes in with great haste-] Disperse, 
brethren, as quick as possible. Fulvius, led by Torqua- 
tus, who has turned a traitor, is coming with a strong 
body of soldiers to seize upon you. 

The Crowd. The will of God be done 1 

Dyonysius. Let us all, then, in good order, get out 
through the secret outlet behind, which you all know. 

Sebastian. I volunteer to be the last, and to let down 
the trap door, when you are all out. 

Cecilia. And I, to hold the lantern. You know I 
need no light. 

Dyonysius. [Gives lantern to Cecilia.'] Put out all 
tapers now : and may God speed us ! 

[Exeunt, Cecilia preceding with lantern.] 

Fulvius [Outside.] Go on, my fellows, don't fear. 

[Enter soldiers cautiously and timidly. Torquatus precedes them, 
holding a lighted torch.] 

One Soldier. I don't like this underground work. 
I am a soldier, and not a rat-catcher. Bring me my man 
into the light of day, and I will fight him hand to hand, 
and foot to foot; but I have no love for beiug stifled or 
poisoned, like vermin ia a drain. 

Another soldier. There may be hundreds of these skulk- 
ing Christians down here, and we are only half a dozen. 



Another. This is not the sort of work we r 



pay 



for. 



eceive our 



Another. It's their sorceries I care for, and 
valor. 



not tiieir 



Cor vinus. Don't 



I tell you. These cowardly 
Christians will run before you like hares. Then, you 
will find in their Church more gold and silver than a 
year's pay will give you. Go on . . 

[They advance inside. Torquatus stops at the entrance, as it were, 
of the corridor, into which the soldiers venture. Sadderdr/ the 
noise is heard of the trap door closing at a distance. The sol- 
diers, frightened at it and at the sudden appearance of Cecilia, 
take to flight backward, saying :] 

All ih e soldiers. [Confusedly.] A sorceress ! a ; spirit ! 

iiway ! 
Cor vinus. [To Cecilia] 



quick ! 



Cecilia. 
Fidvius. 
Cecilia. 
Fulvius. 

Cecilia. 

Fulvius. 



Who are you ' 
others ? 



A Christian ! 

Where are the 
They are safe ! 
Agnes too ? 
Yes, thank God ! 

rage ! Bat now she can no 



more escape 
What were 



me. In a few hours she will be in prison. 
you now doing ? 

Cecilia. Guiding my friends out to safety. 

Fidvius. Well, look at me, woman, and tell me the 
truth. 

Cecilia. I must tell you the truth without looking at 
you, sir; because I am blind. 

Fidvius. Blind ! How long have you been blind V 

Cecilia. All my life. 

Fulvius.* What is your history ? 

Cecilia. I have no history. My parents were poor, 
and brought me to Rome when I was four years old, as they 
came to pray at the tomb of the Blessed Martyr Chrys- 
antus and Daria. It was on that memorable day, when 
many Christians were buried at that tomb by earth and 
stones cast down on them by the heathens. My parents 
had the happiness to be among them. 

Fulvius. And how have you lived since V 



27 

Cecilia. God became my only father, and his Church 
my mother. 

Fidvius. Well, well: [impatient, shaking her arm 
in his grasp.] Do you know now whither you must go ? 

Cecilia. To my spouse in heaven, I hope ; because 
you seem to be one of those who came here to take the 
Christians before the judge. He will condemn me to 
death, I suppose. 

Fulvius. And you say that so calmly ? 

Cecilia. Quite joyfully. 

[Enter Tertullus with soldiers.'] 

Tertullus. Well, Fulvius, have you caught any ? 

Fulvius. But one at present — this blind girl. But I 
discovered enough to compensate our present failure. I 
lay now before you the accusation, claiming my right to 
the spoil. Lady Agnes is a Christian. 

Tertullus Is she ? Well, Claudius, [to one of the sol- 
diers] go directly, take hold of her, and put her safe in the 
Mamestine prison. [The soldier goes ] As for this in- 
significant game [Cecilia,] it would be ridiculous to 
march through the city guarding her. We can try her 
here, and get rid of her at once. 

Fulvius She is at your disposal. If you have no ob- 
jection, I will go and see that Agnes be duly secured. 

Tertullus Well. [Exit Fulvius.] What is thy 
name, child? [To Cecilia.] 

Cecilia. Cecilia. 

Tertullus. It is a noble name. 

Cecil'a. I am not noble; except because my parents, 
though poor, died for Christ. As I am blind, those who 
took care of me, called me with the Latin word Cceca, 
and then, out of kindness, they softened it into Cecilia. 

Tertullus. But now, give up all this folly of the 
Christians Honor the decrees of the Divine Emperor, 
and offer sacrifices to the gods ; and thou shalt have 
riches and fine clothes, and good fare ; and the best phy- 
sicians shall try to restore thee thy sight. 

Cecilia. I thank God that I am poor and meanly clad, 
and fare not daintily, because so I am the more like my 
divine spouse. 



28 

Tertullus. Foolish girl ! Come ; let me have no more 
of this silly prattle. Obey the Emperor at once, or I 
must try what a little pain will do. That will soon tame 
thee. 

Cecilia. Pains ! ? Neither torments, nor death shall 
separate me from the love of Christ. I can offer up no 
sacrifices but to the one "living God ; and its ready obla- 
tion is myself! 

Tertullus. Soldiers, drag her out in that corridor, and 
despatch her at once. [They do so] 

Cecilia. [While she is dragged away.] Thank 
God ! 

Sebastian. [From inside.] Impious tyrant ! A poor 
blind Christian girl has more power over life and death 
than thou or thy cruel masters. 

Tertullus. [Looking around with surprise and rage.] 
Who dares to speak so ? 

Sebastian. [Appearing.] I. 

Tertullus. You, Captain, you turned a traitor — a 
Christian, perhaps ? 

Sebistian. Yes, I am a Christian; but not a traitor. 

Tertullus. How do you prove that ? 

Sebastian. What could have prevented me at any 
time from acting the traitor, if I had been one ? Have 
I not had access to the Emperor's person by night as by 
day ; and have I proved a traitor ? No, sir, none has 
ever been more faithful than I to his Majesty or to the 
State. But I have another and a higher Lord to serve 
at the same time; one who will judge us all ; and His 
laws I must obey rather than the Emperor's, when they 
conflict together. 

Tertullus. And why have you, like a coward, con- 
cealed your religion? To escape, I suppose, the bitter 
death you deserved ? 

Sebastian. No, sir ; no more coward than traitor. 
So long as I could do any good to my brethren, I did not 
refuse to live amidst their carnage and my affliction, ful- 
filling at the same time faithfully all the duties of my 
office, compatible with my religious belief. Bat now, 
that your precipitate incursion did not allow me sufficient 



time to place in safety my fellow Christians, without let- 
ting the door, through which they went out, fall on my- 
self, beyond hope of escape, I am ready to die, if neces- 
sary ; and I thank you and Fulvius for the opportunity 
you procured to me of joining in the same glorious death 
this heroic maiden, whom I imitated in the sacrifice 
made for the salvation of others. 

Tertullus. Well, you will he satisfied, if death is 
what you want; but, not like this silly thing, you shall 
die a slow, lingering death. Such is the order of the 
Emperor in regard to criminals of your degree of guilt. 

Sebastian. Thank you, I repeat ; and to the Em- 
peror ! 

Tertullus. Soldiers, you will take Sebastian to your 
quarters; and early in the morning, when your hands 
are steady, you will tie him to a tree in the grove of 
Adonis, and you will slowly shoot him to death. Slowly, 
mind. Now'take him oft carefully. 

Sebastian. I will not run away ; you need not fear 
that. I will go of my own accord to the place of execu- 
tion, and kiss the blessed tree, and welcome every arrow. 

Tertu 7 lus. [Sneeringly.] We'll see. [Exeunt- Cur- 
tain drops] 



ACT IV! 

PERSECUTION STILL. 

SCENE I. FABIOLA'S ROOM. 
[Fabiola and Syra sltilnj. Fabiola holds a piece of parchment.] 

Fabiola. I must show you. Syra, a strange writing I 
found the other day at lady Agnes' villa, among her 
books. It puzzled me greatly ever since. [Syra, after 
looking at the writing, rises vp and kisses it.'] Now, 
now, Syra, what are you doing V 

Syra. Permit me to stand, my lady, when [ read this, 

Fabicla. How many little fancies you have ! Well, 
read on. 

Syra. [Beading.'] "I say to you: love your en. 
mies ; do good to them that hate yen, and pray for then 



e- 



30 

that persecute and calumniate you ; that you may be the 
children of your Father who is in heaven, who maketh 
his sun rise on the good and the bad, and raineth upon 
the just and the unjust." Mat. 8 : 14. [Syra gives 
back the parchment to Fabiola ] It seems to me quite 
plain, all this, my dear Mistress. 

Fabiola. [Disippointed.'] Yes : but that very plain- 
ness gives me trouble. My natural feelings revolt against 
this sentiment. To forgive, at most, would be much ; 
but to do good in return for evil, seems to me an unnat- 
ural exaction from human nature. Yet, while I feel all 
this, I am conscious that I have been brought to esteem 
you for having practised quite the reverse of what I am 
naturally impelled to expect 

Syra Oh ! Do not talk of me, pray; but look at 
the simple principle. You honor it in others, you say ; 
then it must contain a great truth. 

Fabioli. Do you, then, mean to say, that we must 
hold this truth as a common moral principle ? 

Syra. Of course, I do. 

Fabiola, That is sublime ! I own it. And I under- 
stand also that, when one acts so, one often finds in his 
very action his reward ; for, the world will praise him as 
a hero, and his act is recorded and handed down as 
memorable to the posterity. But what enticement has 
he so to act, who in humble secrecy . performs such a 
noble action ? 

Syra. [Bising up and with enthusiasm J His Father, 
who is in heaven, sees him and will requite him. You 
had it in that writing already. 

Fabiola. Again, Syra, you have conquered my phi- 
losophy. But, do you believe, after all {smiling) in Ju- 
piter, Juno, Minerva and the like? Or can you really 
suppose that they have anything to do with our affairs ? 

Syra. Far indeed from it. I loath their very names. 
No, I spoke not of gods and goddesses, but of one only God. 
- Fabiola. And what do you call him in your system ? 
Syra. He has no name but God ; and men have 
given him that name, that they may speak of him ; but it 
describes not his nature, nor his qualities 



31 

Fdbiola. And what are these ? 

Syra. Simple as light in his nature, one and the same 
every where, He existed before there was any begin- 
ning, and will exist when all else has ceased to be. — 
Power, wisdom, goodness, love, justice belong to Him. 
He alone sees every action, thought or affection ; he alone 
can, and will, reward or punish. 

Fdbiola. But, Syra, can you think that a Being, such 
as you have described, can occupy himself watching the 
actions, still more, the paltry thoughts of millions of crea- 
tures ? 

Syra. This is no occupation for Him ; it is not even 
choice. I called Him light. Is it occupation to the sun 
to send his rays through the crystal of a fountain, and to 
the very pebbles in its bed ? Were the sun to restrain 
his beams at the surface of the transparent element and 
hold them back, would it not be a violence unnatural to 
him ? And what he does in one, he does in the next 
stream, and in that which is a thousand miles off, with 
equal ease, nay out of a natural necessity . . Say the same 
of God, my lady. 

Fobiola. [Overwhelmed ) Your theories are beauti- 
ful indeed; and sound like truth. But, (putting her 
hands to her face in awe) what an awful idea, that one 
has never been, and never is alone — has never had a wish 
to oneself — has never had a single thought in secret — has 
never hidden the most foolish fancy of a proud or child- 
ish brain, from the observation of One who knows no im- 
perfection ! . . Yet, I repeat, it sounds like truth ! . . Ah ! 
Syra, I guess I have not reached the depth of your knowl- 
edge (a tear and blush). .But, no doubt, you have to-day 
opened a new world to my thoughts — a sphere of virtue 
beyond the opinions and judgment of men — a conscious- 
ness of a controlling Power, standing by us when no 
other eye can see — a feeling that, were we shut up for 
ever in solitude, we should be ever the same! . .Such, if I 
understand it well, is the consequence of your doctrine : 
Is it? 

Syra. O my dear mistress, it is. 

Fdbiola. And was it all this that you meant when 



32 

once you told me that, in your theory, there was do dis- 
tinction between mistress and slave ? That is, that such 
a distinction is only outward, social, bodily ; but that a 
perfect equality exists before the Supreme Being ; and 
that the only distinction consists in the different moral 
and inward merit that this Being may see in every indi- 
vidual ? 

Syra. About so, my noble lady. 

Fahiola. And yet, when you spoke so, it seemed to 
me so absurd, that pride and anger overcame me ! (af- 
fected.) Do you remember that, Syra ? 

Syra. Oh no, no. Do not allude to it, pray. 

Fdbiola. Have you forgiven me that day, dear ? (Em- 
bracing her.) 

Syra. Oh! yes, yes. (Sobbing.) 
\_A knoclc at the door. Enter Groja hastily,' ic.ith a letter. ~] 

Graja. Excuse, Madam. 

Fabiola. A letter ? (Opens it end reads) What? 
Agnes in prison? and accused by Fulvius ?. . Oh ! I'll 
soon settle the matter. Ah ! Fulvius, miserable w r retch ! 
[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. . . . PRISON. 

Agnes (Alone ) My prayer has been heard at last ! 
Soon I shall behold my Beloved "face to face as he is." 
Oh bliss ! oh happy day ! . . (Fujvius appears, and boivs 
to Agnes, who stares at him calm and intrepid) You 
again ? Respect me here at least, sir. I have but a few 
hours to live : let them be spent in peace. 

Fulvius. Madam, I have come to lengthen them, if 
you please, to years. 

Agnes. Surely, if I understand you, the time is past 
for this sad vanity. Thus to address one whom you 
have delivered over to death, is, at best, a mockery. 

Fulvhis. It is not so, gentle lady. Your fate is in 
your own hands; and only your own obstinacy can give 
you over to death. I have come to renew, once more, my 
oiler, and with it that of life. It is your last chance. 

Agnes. Have I not bt fore told you that I am a Chris- 
tian, and that I would forfeit a thousand liv^s rather than 
betray my faith V 



33 

" 4 tulvius. Bat I do not ask you to do this ; consent to 
fly with me ; and, notwithstanding what has happened, 
you can be a Christian and yet live. 

Agnes. But have I not also plainly told you that I 
am already espoused to my Lord and Savior, and that to 
him alone I keep eternal faith ? Cease, therefore, 
this unworthy importunity, and leave me the last privi- 
lege of the- condemned — solitude. 

Fulvius {Angrily) Wretched woman, I give thee 
' one more opportunity of rescuing thyself from destruction. 
Say, then, which wilt thou have, life with me, or death ? 

Fabiola. {Appearing suddenly) Death, even J, 
would choose with her, rather than life with a monster 
like thee ! 

Fulvius. She shall have it; {Clenches his fist, and 
darts a mad look towards Fabiola.) and thou too, if 
again thou darest to fling thy baneful shadow across my 
path. {Exit.) 

Fabiola. {To Agnes.) Now, Agnes, what does all 
this mean ? Is all the charge which this scoundrel has 
trumped up against you, that you are a Christian ? {She 
laughs.) I will go myself to Tertullus and confute it in 
five minutes, 

Agnes. But Fabiola, I am really a Christian ! 

Fabiola. {In great astonishment.) You?.,(7o her- 
self.) Agnes a Christian! And so Syra, it appears! 
and with those sublime doctrines I have just learned from 
her ! . . Oli ! this is more than I can bear ! . .{To Agnes.) 
But how long, Agnes, have you been a Christian ? 

Agnes. All my life : I sucked the faith, as we say, 
with my mother's milk, 

Fabiola. And why did you conceal it from me ? 

Agnes. Because I saw your violent prejudices against 
us; how you abhorred us as practicers of the most ridic- 
ulous superstitions, as perpetrators of the most odious 
abominations. I perceived how you contemned us as un- 
intellectual, uneducated, unphilosophical and unreasona- 
ble. You would not hear a word about us ; and the only 
object of hatred to your generous mind was the name of 
Christian. 



34 

Fabiola. True, dearest Agnes; yet I think had, l| 
known that you were a Christian, I could not have hated 
it; I could have loved any thing in you. 

Agnes. You think so now, Fabiola : but you know 
not the force of universal prejudice, the weight of false- 
hood daily repeated. How many noble minds, fine intel- 
lects and loving hearts are thus enslaved, and induced to 
believe us to be all that we are not, something even 
worse than the worst of all others ! 

Fabiola. Well, Agnes, it is selfish in me to argue 
thus with you in your present position. You will, of 
course, compel Fulvius to prove that you are a Christian. 

Agnes. Oh no, dear Fabiola ; I have already con- 
fessed it, and intend to do so again, I think, after a 
little while. 

Fabiola. What! so soon? 

Agnes. Yes, Fabiola. To prevent any clamor or dis- 
turbance, I hear I am to be interrogated early, and that 
summary proceedings will be taken. Is not that good 
news, dear ?. .Behold, what I have long wished I already 
see ; what I hoped for I hold safe; to Him alone I feel 
already associated in heaven, whom here on earth I have 
loved with all devotedness. Oh, how beautiful he is, Fa- 
biola ! Lovlier than the angels that surround him! 
sweet his smile — mild his look — bland the whole express- 
ion of his countenance. Oh, I see him and his most gra- 
cious mother, and the whole heavenly host winningly 
beckoning me to go to them. .1 come, I come. . Oh could 
you come too, Fabiola ! Dear cousin, [takes one of Fa- 
biola's hands in her own, and crosses them upon her 
bosom, looking into her face,) I have one dying request 
to make you. 

Fabiola. [Almost crying.) Speak not thus to me, 
dearest Agnes ; you must not request, but command me 
now. 

Agnes, Then promise me that you will apply your 
mind to master the doctrines of Christianity. I know 
you will embrace them ; if you only do that. Oh, what a 
glorious being Christianity will make of you, Fabiola ! 

Fabiola. I will, Agnes. Oh that you were not leav- 



35 

ing me thus outside its very threshold ! (A noise is 
heard.) 

Agnes. Hark ! They come, they come ! Don't you 
hear the measured tramp of the soldiers in the gallery ? 
They are the Bridesmen coming to summon me. Fare- 
well, Fabiola ! Weep not for me. that I could make 
you feel, as I do, the happiness of dying for Christ ! 
x\nd now I will speak a word to you which I never have 
addressed to you before — God bless you ! (She makes 
the sign of the cross on Fabiola' } s forehead. They em- 
brace each other — The soldiers appear — Fabiola, sob- 
bing, hastens away.) 

TeriuUus. — What ! is she unfettered ? 

A Soldier. She does not need it : she walks so read- 
ily — and she is so young. (Wickedly.) 

TeriuUus. But she is as obstinate as the oldest. Put 
manacles on her hands at once. 

A soldier. (Doing so.) One so young ought *£o wear 
other bracelets. 

TeriuUus. Silence man, obey, (to Agnes) Agnes, I 
pity thy youth, thy station, and the bad education thou 
hast received. I desire, if possible, to save thee. Re- 
nounce the false and pernicious maxims of Christianity.; 
obey the Emperor's edicts ; and sacrifice to the gods. 

Agnes. — It is useless to tempt me longer. My resolu 
tion is unalterable. I despise thy false divinities, and 
can only love and serve the One living God. Blessed 
Christ, call to thee the soul that cleaveth unto Thee — 
victim first to Thee by virginal consecration, now to Thy 
Father by martyrdom's immolation. 

TeriuUus. I waste time, I see. (Impatiently.) We 
condemn Agnes for contempt of the Imperial edicts, to 
be punished with the sword. 

Soldier. Where, sir ? 

Tertidlus. Here, at once. 

Agnes. Thanks be to God ! (She raises her hands 
and eyes to heaven. She then calmly kneels down, draws 
forward with her hauls her hair over her head, and ex- 
poses her neck to the bloiv. The executioner trembles 
with emotion, and cannot wield his sword. When at 



36 

last he has done so, he still hesitates, and passes the back 
of his left hand across his eyes, and ivipes a tear — ) 

Tertullus. Now, now, soldier, a tear ? Art thou 
mad ? Strike, or . . . 

[The executioner grasps Agnes? head, bends it to one side, and 
raises the sword to strike the blow, when the curtain drops.~\ 



act -v, 

CONVERSION. 
SCENE. FABIOLA'S RECEPTION ROOM. 

Graja. {To Gorvinus.) I have delivered your mes- 
sage to my mistress, sir. She will come in presently 

(Exit 

Gorvinus. ( When Fabiola enters.) Madam, the Em- 
peror has conferred on me the honor of coming to you as 
a messenger from his imperial majesty. 

Fabiola. [Dry.) What does the Emperor want from 
me? 

Gorvinus, We felt very much for you at seeing how 
eztremely sorry you appeared to be for your unfortunate 
cousin's sad fate : and, thinking that it would be some 
compensation for the loss of her person, if you should 
get the peaceful possession of her inheritance, which 
some wicked persons expected to get for themselves after 
its confiscation, we, my father and your humble servant, 
(bowing) obtained from the Emperor a rescript, {hands 
it over to Fabiola, who throws it carelessly on a chair,) 
by which lady Agnes' property is assigned to you unmo- 
lested. I hope, Madam, you will consider this good 
office as a new token of my affection for you, and kindly 
reward it with your own. 

Fabiola. That was unnecessary, sir. That property 
was settled on me long ago ; and I could in no way for- 
feit it. I am no Christian, as you know. Yet, let it be 
so now; and if you have any claim to my recompense, I 
will see to it in a more favorable moment. I am just 
now too wearied and unwell : so, I must beg you to 
leave me at present. 



37 

Corvinus. I shall respect your feelings, iny lady, and 
withdraw; but with the consoling hope that you will 
soon receive me again. 

Fahiola. {Turns her back to him and calls Graja.) 
Graja, show this gentleman off. [When alone.) Hor- 
rid monster L.. .And he dares to aspire to my hand! 
(Laughing scornfully.) What a difference (turning 
serious, and plunging herself in her couch) between 
such kind of people and Sebastian — the noblest, the 
purest, the bravest of Rome's nobility/ (Phased.) Was 
it not extremely delicate on his part never to make the 
least advance, although he could not but know that he 
might have had my hand and fortune for the asking ? 
But lo ! that he has gone too [Thoughtful.'] Alas ! he too 
was a Christian . . But is it not very strange that every one 
I have known to be endowed with superior excellence — 
— Agnes, Sebastian, Syra — turn out to belong to that 
scorned race : whilst, if I look around upon the rest — 
Tertullus, Corvinus, Fulvius, the Emperor himself — it 
sickens me (risiiig up and pacing the floor ivith indig- 
nation) to see quite a contrast of baseness, of vice, of 
stupidity. 

Fulvius. ( Who appeared at the door when Fabiola 
was uttering the last sentence.) Pray Madam, (ironi- 
cally,) who are the men whom you honor by that gra- 
cious speech ? 

Fahiola. You are one — you, a further intruder, even 
into the most secret apartments of a young lady's resi- 
dence. Begone at once, or I will have you ignomin- 
iously expelled hence. 

Fulvius. Sit down, and compose yourself, lady. This 
is my last visit to you ; we have a reckoning to make to- 
gether of some weight. As to calling out or bringing in 
help, you need not trouble yourself. I have seen that 
none be within call. (Fabiola sinks herself down in 
her couch with despair. Fulvius takes a chair and 
sits opposite to her and continues :) Now repress your 
indignation, lady. I will be heard out. You under- 
mined my character, you poisoned my love. . - 

Fabiola. Your love ? (Mockingly.) 



38 

Fulvius. Yes, my love for Agnes .... 

Fabiola. Insolent man ! That very name on your 
lips sounds like blasphemy. And as for your pretended 
love, no, it deserves no such name. It was wealth that 
you grasped at and nothing more. What love can there 
be in one who is equally ready to espouse or to murder 
the object of his affection ? Begone (rising up) from 
my presence ; you taint the very atmosphere in which 
you move. At any rate I will depart from this offensive 
intrusion. 

Fulvius. (Hastily grasping her arm and pushing 
her back to the seat.) We part not yet, lady, and be- 
ware how you attempt either to escape or to bring aid. 
Your first cry will be your last, cost me what it may. . 
You have made me a houseless wanderer : you robbed 
me of my gold. 

Fabiola. What ! dare you, in my own house, call me 
a thief ? 

Fulvius. I dare ; and I tell you this is your day of 
reckoning. I have earned, even if by crime, it is nothing 
to you, my full share of your cousin's property ; I have 
a right to enjoy it. Call it what you will ; call it my 
blood-money ; but you had no business to step in and 
snatch it from me. 

Fabiola. (Soothingly.) Fulvius, I entreat you to go. 
If you want money, you shall have it ; but go, in heaven's 
name, go. My cousin's property naturally became mine 
the moment it ceased to be hers ; and the Emperor's re- 
script, granting it to me, was obtained by some uncalled 
for friend, but it was unnecessary. 

Fulvius. No ; you endeavor in vain to make me be- 
lieve all that. You have out-plotted me ; and now you 
offer me money — alms out of my own wages. 

Fabiola. Your anger destroys your reason, Fulvius. 
[She risis again , but he seizes he?* with a maniac's gripe.] 

Fulvius. No. Give me back that property. Trans- 
fer it by your sign to me as a free gift, and I will de- 
part. If not, you have signed your own doom. 

Fabiola. (Haughtily.) Fulvius, listen to my words, 
though they should be the last that I may speak. If 






39 

you want money from me, I'll give; but surrender to 
you my cousin Agnes' (she bows respectfully) property, 
no, I will not, I shall not. I would rather give it to the 
first beggar that I meet in the street. Never shall you 
touch a thing that belonged to that holy maiden, be it a 
gem or be it a straw. That touch would be a pollution. 
You have now offered me two alternatives — as last night 
you did to her — to yield to your demands or die. Agnes 
told me which to choose. 

[Fulvius pushes Fabiola backwards towards the couch, and draws a 
stiletto from the folds of his bosom. Fabiola faints.'] 

Fulvius. Then die ! (and lie raises the arm to strike- 
at the same moment Syr a rushes in, throws herself be- 
tween her Mistress' life and Fulvius 1 dagger, and re- 
ceives the stroke. Fulvius, blind vnth madness, dashes 
the dagger to the ground and rushes out of the room. 
A pause ensues.) 

Fabiola. (Coming to herself, she releases herself of 
Syra, ivho lies fainted on the same couch, arises 
gently, and perceiving the state of Syra, calls her.) 
Syra ! Syra ! What ? blood ?. . Ah ! now I recollect ev- 
erything : she was murdered by Fulvius instead of me ! 
(She runs to the door.) Afra ! Graja ! Come, quick ! 

Afra and Graja. What is the matter ? 

Fabiola. She is murdered ! she is murdered ! (in 
great desolation,) Graja, run for a physician. Afra, 
staunch the blood ! (They both do so.) 

Syra. (Returning to her senses.) Fabiola.. my 
dear mistress . . are you safe ? 

Fabiola. I am, dear ; but thou art d ying ! 

Syra. The will of God be done ! 

Graja. The physician is coming. (Enter Dyonysius.) 

Dyonysius. (To Syra.) My child ! Be of good heart ! 
(He dresses the ivoand and gives some medicine.) The 
wound (to Fabiola) is not dangerous. She must now be 
left perfectly quiet, so as to prevent excitement. If she 
can fall in a short slumber, it will do her a great deal of 
good. I will call again by and by. 

Fabiola. Very well, sir. (Exit Dyonysius.) (To 
Afra and Graja.) You may go, now: I will nurse 



40 

- her.. (Syra falls asleep. Silence.) Oh she was no 
dreamer when she spoke to me about making heroism an 
ordinary and one's own every day's duty ! Can this be a 
philosophy ?.. Oh no, it must be a religion! — The reli- 
gion of Agnes ! 

Syra. Agnes ! (dreaming) Oh ! (aivaking) my dear- 
est Mistress ! 

Fabiola. Oh do not, I entreat you, call me by such 
a title. But you seem to me better. 

Syra. Much better. 

Fabiola. Permit me, then, to fulfil without delay the 
duty which my heart is burning to discharge, that of 
thanking you, not for the life you have saved me, but 
for the sacrifice you made for it. 

Syra. After all, I did but my duty. 

Fabiola. No, no; do not try to make me undervalue 
your virtue. 

Syra, (Talking Fabiola, 1 s hands behoeen both hers.) 
Good and gentle lady, that you may see how far, what 
you prize so much in me, is from what might be done 
still, let me trace to you a parallel scene, but where all 
shall be reversed, Suppose a slave — a slave brutish, un- 
grateful, rebellious to the best of masters : and suppose 
the stroke, not of an assassin, but of the minister of jus- 
tice, impend over his head. What would you think of 
that master, if, out of pure love, and that he might re- 
claim that wretched slave, he should rush beneath the 
axe's blow, and leave written in his will that he made 
that slave heir of his title and of his wealth, and desired 
him to be considered as his brother ? 

Fabiola. Oh ! Syra, this is too sublime a picture to 
be believed of man — but only, if ever possible, of a God J 

Syra. (With inspiration.) And Christ, who did 
thus sacrifice hlmsklf for man, was truly god ! 
God and man ! 

Fabiola. Oh! I see ! Hence I wish you to give me 
some further knowledge of this your religious system, 
which is so coherent in all its parts. 

Syra. Well, if you believe me, I will attempt to 
do so. 



41 

Fabiola. One who is ready, like you, to die for an- 
other will surely not deceive him. 

Syra. And now, you have just seized another great 
principle of Christianity — that of Faith. 

Fabiola. Well, I believe, Syra ; tell me, then : this 
Christ, God and man, who offered himself a victim for 
man, did he take up the cast-off slough of our same hu- 
manity, or was a new manhood created expressly for him ? 
Was there any one on earth daring and high enough to 
call himself his father ? 

Syra. No : but there was one holy enough and hum- 
ble enough to be chosen to be His Mother ! 

Fabiola, And who is she ? 

Syra. One, whom an angel, a sublime Spirit, sent 
to her from heaven, saluted with these words : ki Hail, 
full of grace, the Lord is with thee ;" one whom " all the 
generations called and shall call blessed ; ,J one, of whom 
eight hundred years before a prophet spoke, saying : "be- 
hold a virgin shall conceive," and who accordingly con- 
ceived, overshadowed by the spirit of God himself. Her 
name is Mary. Her, and her virtues, especially the at- 
tachment she showed to have for virginal purity, when 
she objected to the honor of being the mother of the 
Savior, her, I say, many, like our holy friend Agnes, 
justly choose as the pattern of their lives; and in prefer- 
ence to allowing themselves to be yoked, even by the ten- 
derest ties, seek to fly upwards to heaven on wings of un- 
divided love to God. 

Fabiola. If you are not too fatigued, I will ask you 
one question more. 

Syra. No : ask. 

Fabiola. What hope can there be for one, who, though 
she pretended to know every thing, yet was ignorant or 
rather rash enough to scorn the true wisdom, and sneered 
at the very death of Him who ransomed her. . [a flood of 
tears stop her speech .] 

Syra. Fabiola, listen to me. " In the days of our 
Lord there lived a woman who bore the same name as 
his spotless mother, but who had sinned most degra- 
dingly — whilst you would abhor to sin. She became ac- 



42 

quainted with the Redeemer; and she loved him, and 
repented of her sins. She went to him, into the house 
of a man where he was dining, and she knelt at his 
feet, and she poured out upon them a flood of tears. . 

Fabiola- And how did the Redeemer receive her ? 

Syra. He defended her against the carping gibes of 
his host, and said of her : "Her many sins are forgiven 
because she loved a great deal." 

Fabiola. And what became of her ? 

Syra. When the Redeemer was crucified, two wo- 
men were privileged to stand close to Him — Mary the 
sinless and Mary the penitent; to show how unsullied, 
as well as repentant, love, may walk hand in hand be- 
side Him, who said : "I came not to call the just but 
sinners to repentance." 

Fabiola. (Falling onher knees and bending, with her 
face in both her hands, in Syra's lap — sobbing.) Syra, I 
wish to be like the penitent Mary. (Enter Graja and 

Dyony silts. ) 

Graja. Madam, the physician. 

Syra. (To Dyonysius.) Venerable priest of God, 
I confide to your fatherly care this Cathecumen, that you 
may instruct her in the mysteries of our holy Faith, and 
regenerate her by the waters of salvation. 

Fabiola. What ! are you more than a physician ? 

Dyonysius. I am, my child. Unworthily I hold like- 
wise the higher office of a priest in God's Church. (Fa- 
biola throws herself at his feet — hissing his hands; 
and he jplaces his hands upon her head, saying :) Be of 
good courage, daughter; you are not the first of your 
house, whom God has brought into his holy Church. 
It is now many years since I was called in here, under 
the gui^e of a physician, and baptized a few hours before 
her death the wife of Fabius. 

Fabiola. My mother ! And she died a Christian ! ? 

Dyonysius. Yes ; and I doubt not that her spirit has 
been hovering about you through life, guiding you to this 
blessed hour. 

Fabiola, (Throwing herself in Syra's arms.) And 
thou, Syra, thou wert the angel through whom my mother 



43 

guided me, as it were, by hand to the present happi- 
ness. Oh ! allow me, from henceforth, to call thee and 
to be called by thee sister. 

Syr a. Sister, [embracing her) dear sister ! now we 
shall never be separated from each other — for all 
eternity ! 

Dyonysius. — Praised be the infinite mercy of God, 
who accepted this poor slave's sacrifice for her mistress, 
and made them both truly and equally free in Christ ! 




ERRATA. 



To the Dramatis Personce, add : Torquatus — An 

Apostate from Christianity. 
At page 10 line 2, over-chastening, read : over-chas- 
tising. 
At page 17, line 10, last word, read: Fulvius. 
" " 22, " 20, Agnes, read: Fulvius. 
" " 29, " 12, to the Emperor, read: the Emperor. 
" " 34, " 1, I think had, I, read : I think, had I. 
" " 34, " 24, lovlier, read : lovelier. 



St'jH*/- 



